


Getting On His Nerves

by Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: ChemMommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock's school lesson leads to unintended consequences, but for whom?</p><p>Written by ChemMommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting On His Nerves

Title: Getting on His Nerves

Author: ChemMommy

Rating: G

Series: TOS

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Start Trek and the characters.

 

 

Getting on His Nerves

 

 

“Mother, come quickly! I think I’ve killed Father!”

 

Now, that’s not something you hear all the time as a mother.

 

I had gotten used to Spock’s endless and often baffling question about strange desert beasts, computers, and stars. “Mother, why do you think this lizard has a talon on its tail?” Or more worrisome “May I keep this Death Spider in my room to observe what it eats?” 

 

“Mother, what should I do with this psionic sensor that is left over from your computer?” Or more ominously, “I reconfigured Father’s computer to isolate my schoolwork, but what happened to his subspace communications?

 

“Mother, is space time dependent on gravity as well as velocity?” Or more philosophically, “Mother, are the people on the ships that fall into a black hole aware of what has happened?”

 

All of the child rearing books encouraged me to support my son’s interests and to encourage his curiosity. So, I’d joined my son in exploring the desert, gingerly held some truly bizarre creatures, cheerfully looked over his shoulder at the innards of his Father’s computer, or bravely discussed metaphysical aspects of awareness in suspended animation.

 

But, what can prepare you to hear: “Mother, come quickly! I think I’ve killed Father!”? 

 

Spock’s rather frantic face appeared at my office door before I could move away from the desk. My first thought was that Sarek had better not see Spock’s face right now, or Spock would be severely reprimanded for his lack of control. But then an irreverent part of me whispered that if Sarek really WAS dead, Spock’s lack of control didn’t matter.

 

“Hurry, Mother! I think he’s dead!” 

 

None of the child rearing books on my book shelves covered the subject of children who murder their fathers. Guess if I survive this incident, I can write a new child rearing book and retire on the royalties. 

 

Spock actually grabbed my hand and, with surprising strength for a six-year-old, pulled me inexorably out of the study and through the living room toward the garden door.

 

From the garden door, I spotted Sarek lying face down in front of the meditation bench. The garden itself was broken into several tiers. Sarek had been meditating on the first tier, the one that provided the best view into the desert. He had asked for a meditation bench to be installed there when I was designing the garden and he could often be found there on pleasant evenings.

 

Spock released my hand and ran down the stairs to the first landing in the garden far faster than Vulcan decorum allowed. I hardly noticed because I was running down the stairs, too. What if Sarek was really dead? Did Spock actually kill him? That wouldn’t be logical, would it? Human anxiety and adrenaline can make you have some truly odd thoughts!

 

Spock was trying to roll Sarek over, with little success, when I got to the bottom of the stairs. Pulling together, we rolled Sarek over onto his back. With profound relief, I noticed that Sarek was breathing, but I couldn’t rouse him by shaking him. But Sarek didn’t seem to be in any distress and I couldn’t see any blood.

 

“Should I slap him, Mother?”

 

Quite irrationally I thought that, after trying to kill your father, I wouldn’t suggest slapping him, but logically, I knew that Spock was correct. I’d seen Sarek in a healing trance before and knew that it was often necessary to inflict considerable pain to break him out of the trance.

 

THWACK, thwack!

 

Spock hadn’t waited for confirmation before slapping his father. I nodded at him to do it again. “Hit him harder, son.”

 

THWACK, THWACK, thwack!

 

Sarek continued to lie on the ground motionless. Mud and sand from the freshly watered plants covered his face and a stray leaf was plastered to his hair. His meditation robe was now far from tidy. In the midst of everything else, this untidiness shocked me.

 

I grabbed Spock’s arm just before he delivered a third set of blows. “Wait, Spock. If Sarek needed a healing trance, he wouldn’t have initiated it while sitting on a bench, would he? What did you do to him? Why do you think that you killed your father?”

 

Spock was silent. He hid his face from me.

 

I got suspicious. Something wasn’t adding up here. “Spock, tell me what you did or I’m calling a healer right now.”

 

Spock’s head snapped up at that and his eyes were fearful again. The threat to call in a healer, possibly unnecessarily, had certainly gotten his attention.

 

“What did you do to your father? Does he need a healer?” I tried to use that commanding tone of voice that Sarek used when he demanded an answer from Spock.

 

“I don’t know,” was said so softly that I wasn’t sure that I’d heard it correctly.

 

“You don’t know what you did to Sarek or you don’t know if he needs a healer?” Three more seconds, I thought to myself, and I’ll call the healer anyway.

 

One…two…th…

 

“I…squeezed…his shoulder nerve plexus.”

 

Maybe that adrenaline was affecting my hearing. “I don’t understand, Spock. Your father was in a healing trance, fell on his face, and then you squeezed his shoulder?”

 

“No, he was meditating on the bench. I squeezed his shoulder and he fell on his face.” Spock eyes turned to his father on the ground. “I tried to roll him over or to pick him up, but I couldn’t. I thought he was dead!” Spock’s words came faster now and by the end, he was almost wailing.

 

That’s when I started to laugh. Not a gentle, pseudo-Vulcan chuckle, not a chortle, not a giggle, but a good old-fashioned, human belly laugh. “Oh, Spock…” I started to say when I could catch my breath, but one sight of his face set me to laughing again. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I was laughing that good, cleansing laugh that does humans so much good psychologically. Spock looked at me like I was insane. Of course, by Vulcan standards, I was acting like a loony bin patient who had missed her meds.

 

“Mother, why are you laughing? And why are you crying while you laugh? I don’t think my almost killing Father is humorous!”

 

I pulled my incredulous son into my arms despite his resistance and despite Sarek’s orders that I refrain from touching him. “Oh, Spock, Sarek is fine. You just rendered him unconscious with a nerve pinch. You’ll have to ask him the correct name for the nerve pinch, but it is used to subdue people without causing them long-term pain or injury.”

 

“He’s not going to die?”

 

I shook my head softly as I cuddled his head on my chest. “No, honey. Sarek will be fine after awhile. But what possessed you to try a nerve pinch on your father?”

 

Spock leaned back enough that he could see my face. His eyes were no longer fearful, I noticed. “In school today, we were studying nerve anatomy. The teacher mentioned that most humanoid and vulcanoid species will die if they are injured at the C2 and C3 vertebrae. However, a blow to the C4 and C5 vertebrae will only result in a loss of mobility below the neck because a small ganglion detours around these two vertebrae. This ganglion is capable of carrying nerve messages to the brain for a short period of time when the spinal cord is compressed. I wondered what would happen if the ganglion was compressed instead of the main nerve.”

 

I could see the small scientist that was my son emerge from the scared little boy that was hiding in my lap. “When I came home, I tried to compress the nerve on I-Chaya, but he just growled at me. I tried to compress the ganglion on my own shoulder, but I couldn’t get a good grip. I wanted to ask Father to help me with my experiment. I found him in the garden, but he was meditating.”

 

Spock paused in his recitation and ducked his head briefly. “I know not to interrupt Father when he’s meditating.” Last month Spock, blinded by enthusiasm over a scientific investigation, burst in on Sarek when he was meditating. Sarek’s lecture about control and politeness had continued for quite awhile that afternoon and Spock had been quiet and wary the rest of the evening.

 

I snorted a bit at the memory and in sympathy. Spock shot me a puzzled look; polite Vulcans don’t snort. “Yes, Spock, I learned that lesson myself, the hard way, when we had only been married a few weeks. Only once since then have I deliberately disturbed Sarek during his meditations and I had a good reason to interrupt him. I had gone into labor with you!”

 

“Father corrects YOUR behavior?” Spock’s eyes grew big with surprise.

 

“Yes, dear, and it is not very pleasant. But go on with your story. If your father was meditating, why did you squeeze his neck?”

 

“I turned around to go quietly back inside but …” Spock paused.

 

“Ah, I think I understand. You were so curious that you just had to try your experiment immediately.” 

 

Spock’s eyes weren’t surprised or excited any longer. He knew that he had suffered a lapse of control for which his father would be sure to discipline him. Surak’s basic philosophy included the tenet: “Curiosity must be controlled like a sehlat – as unbridled curiosity can cause much damage.” If we were living in the United States of the 1800’s, Spock would be writing that adage on the chalkboard fifty times tonight!

 

Spock nodded and continued his story. “I walked far enough down the steps that I could reach his neck easily and squeezed hard. Father’s head jerked up and then he fell forward into the dirt. When I couldn’t move him, I ran to get you. Mother, how angry will Father be?”

 

We both looked down at Sarek. “Spock, you know that your father doesn’t get angry.” Spock looked back at me disbelievingly. And I couldn’t blame him. Sarek might well be very displeased with his small, curious son and that displeasure… well, frankly, that displeasure could sure looked a lot like anger, albeit without the emotional outburst that humans usually have when they are angry.

 

“Mother, will Father recover soon?”

 

“Yes, Spock, he will. Why don’t you go and get a small pillow for his head and I’ll get a blanket. I don’t know how long he will be unconscious, but I do know that it is getting cold. You and I definitely can’t lift him and I don’t think that we should call anyone for help on this one.”

 

Spock jumped to his feet with alacrity. Doing something to help his father would make him calmer. He started to run up the stairs but slowed to a more decorous walk before he got to the top. I followed him up the stairs and into the house, still laughing inside. “Unbridled curiosity…oh, Sarek, what a child we have!”

 

By the time I returned with the blanket, Spock had already lifted Sarek’s head onto the pillow. With the addition of a blanket, poor Sarek, the ambassador to the Federation from Vulcan, looked like a Cub Scout who had fallen into a muddy pothole. He wasn’t very dignified right now, but at least he wouldn’t get cold.

 

Neither Spock nor I considered it prudent to go back into the house for endmeal, leaving Sarek to recover alone. We sat side-by-side on the steps as the last rays of the sun disappeared below the horizon and shared a silent vigil. I studied the stars that were just peeking out; Spock studied the ground and occasionally, his father’s muddy profile.

 

“Mother, he’s moving!”

 

Sarek was indeed moving his fingers a bit. I could see the tension drain out of Spock. Hmm! You didn’t have to be a touch telepath to read that body language. Until Sarek began to move again, Spock hadn’t been totally convinced that he hadn’t hurt his father.

 

We both knelt by Sarek and I took his strong hand in mine. For several long moments nothing happened, but I could feel his consciousness through the bond we shared.

 

“Look, Spock. He’s not dead; he’s smiling!”

 

Spock looked at his father in shock. Sarek was indeed smiling. Spock’s mouth fell open in surprise. It’s a good thing that Sarek’s eyes weren’t open yet to see that! In another moment, the smile disappeared. Spock immediately stilled and pulled his emotions under control, but Sarek’s eyes were on me.

 

//Amanda, really! “He’s not dead; he’s smiling!” I’m trying to teach our son logic. That statement wasn’t the epitome of logic.//

 

I smiled into Sarek’s eyes wishing the Spock could hear his father’s ironic humor just then.

 

Sarek gently turned his head to look at his son. “Spock, when I’m recovered, I’ll be ready to hear the logic of your actions this evening.”

 

“Yes, Father.” Spock rose, thinking that he had been dismissed.

 

As Spock turned to walk up the stairs into the house, Sarek continued, “And after we discuss your actions, we can discuss the role of curiosity…and how to perform the nerve pinch more effectively.”

 

Spock turned to stare at his father in surprise, but kept his face carefully neutral. “I look forward to learning from you this evening, Father.”

 

“But, Spock, we will not practice on me again tonight. We can practice on your mother instead.”

 

At that, Spock’s mouth did fall open in surprise momentarily at his father’s humor. As he continued into the house Spock was probably thinking that lack of control must be a side effect of the nerve pinch. Surely that would the only logical reason for his father’s humor and benevolence.

 

I could still feel Sarek’s amusement through the bond and squeezed Sarek’s hand lovingly. “Practice on me and a certain ambassador I know will sleep on the sofa tonight!”

 

“The sofa would be more comfortable than the ground, Amanda.” Then, in the sanguine voice of a typical Vulcan, “Assist me.”

 

Offering more counterbalance than strength, I helped Sarek stand and even brushed some of the dirt from his face. “Aduna, we need to discuss the role of the wife in a Vulcan marriage. It is not appropriate to laugh profusely when one find’s one’s spouse laid out in the garden, felled by a child’s nerve pinch.”

 

Now it was my turn to be astonished. “You heard that? 

 

“Indeed. As well as Spock’s novice explanation about ganglion compression. Such curiosity…” That wonderful eyebrow of his lifted briefly.

 

“I thought you were unconscious until just a few minutes ago.”

 

“I could hear long before I could move. Typically after a nerve pinch, awareness returns before movement. And I certainly heard your mirth.”

 

“Well, I was rather surprised to find that our extremely curious child had managed to knock you out in the middle of your meditations.” I rested my hand on his chest and asked hesitantly, “Ah, you didn’t feel us rolling you over or, well, anything else we did to you, did you?” I was remembering Spock’s blows to his father’s face.

 

“No, the first thing I was aware of was your boisterous laughter. I’m pleased that the results of Spock’s experiment made you so happy.” I felt a burst of wickedness through the bond and Sarek’s hand settled on my neck. “I clearly need to discuss the appropriate time for experimentation with Spock.” My eyes grew larger as his placid voice continued, “However, you should be aware that even older Vulcans struggle with their curiosity …”


End file.
